


Shinobi Rule Number Six

by Limited_Edge



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And at least THEY didn't murder everybody else, And misses a few, But family's family, Gen, Konoha won't know what hit them, Little wierd that none fell through the cracks, Or give him Trauma(TM), Sasuke doesn't know what to think of these odd Uchiha, So in this one Itachi fudges up, This began with the question, Uchiha Massacre, Why were all the Uchiha in the compound?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-13 05:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limited_Edge/pseuds/Limited_Edge
Summary: ...Never make assumptions. But rules are for chumps, and shortcuts are a given for a genius. The result? Three more Uchiha survive the massacre, for better or for worse. At least Sasuke has some reasonably non-psychotic family now. Though with Uchiha, there's always a fine line between insanity and obsession, and they like to skip rope with that line.Konoha won't know what hit it.





	1. Rule Six: Never Make Assumptions

Shinobi Rule Number Six: Never make assumptions.

 

It was a rather vague rule, as many of the shinobi rules were. It was prone to loopholes and misinterpretation, and sometimes outright disregarded. But the shinobi rules had all been made for a reason, and it was up to the shinobi in question to interpret them as the situation required.

 

For rule number six, this usually resulted in a ‘double tap’- you couldn’t assume a downed enemy was a dead enemy, so much like a zombie apocalypse setting, it was usually a given to strike again to be on the safe side.

 

But rule six was more diverse than that.

 

You couldn’t assume _anything_ was clear- the intel you received, the skill of your opponents, the possibility of defeat or victory.

 

With experience though comes complacency. A shinobi who has managed to perform the same water justu successfully a thousand times will probably assume that the thousand and first time will work as well. A pattern established is expected to hold, if only for the sake that over-analyzing every facet of daily life would probably drive anyone insane.

 

In addition, when someone is used to always making the right assumptions, this rule begins to feel redundant, stupid- and inevitably, is unheeded.

 

This leads to mistakes.

 

Uchiha _Itachi_ making a mistake.

 

The night of the Uchiha massacre, he made a single, powerful assumption- that all Uchiha in the compound followed his father’s law. By this line of logic, all Uchiha would be in their homes after curfew like Fugaku had demanded (to maintain safety and unity), only out and about on police business or with leave upon special request from Fugaku himself.

 

For this reason, Itachi had placed within his father’s office a single crow, willing to report any Uchiha that were gone- so that they would not escape the terror to come.

 

As with any of his assumptions, it was backed by Itachi’s own experience with his clan, and though he would never admit it to himself, his own superiority as a genius leading him to believe that he knew his clan and its members better than anyone else, regardless of the fact that he didn’t individually know each member. These same thoughts were what had led him to lose faith in the clan, and be sure that a massacre was the only solution to political dissent.

 

Being raised beneath a dictatorship truly shined in situations like these.

 

But the bottom line was that Itachi had made an assumption, even if it was ‘warranted’. He had subconsciously decided that no Uchiha would rebel against Fuguku’s mandates, because in his mind, the only rebels to the clan had been Shisui and himself.

 

In a way, he was right- he was likely the only Uchiha alive who would be willing to betray the clan so completely (other than ‘Madara’). Yet what Itachi had failed to factor into consideration was this; rebellion does not necessarily have to be profound. It can be as simple as having the wherewithal to not give a shit about telling your clan head where you were every second of every day.

 

Itachi was unfamiliar with these types of rebellions. The ever studious and prestigious heir, he had followed clan law to a T his entire life until abruptly shifting tracks. To him, all or nothing was the only way to act.

 

And this assumption led to his mistake.

 

The result of said mistake let a PTSD addled drunk, a bootycall, and someone driven by revenge slip through the cracks.

 

Shinobi Rule Number Six: Never Make Assumptions.

 

**XXX**

 

Uchiha Hiroshi sat in his usual dusty corner of The Broken Kunai, nursing his diminishing bottle of sake.

 

In the center of the room, what was clearly an ANBU initiation drinking spree carried on. Only shinobi enlisted to a likely death could party like that. Hiroshi tilted his head to dodge a bottle accidently flung in his direction, which smashed against the wall behind him.

 

He sighed- he missed those days.

 

Hiroshi took another sip, and blandly watched the game of strip poker carry on, lacking anything better to do than periodically flag down the harried waitress for another bottle. Each time, she was surprised to see him (Hiroshi wasn’t a forty-five year old ANBU veteran for nothing) but to her credit, she never screamed when he pat her on the shoulder, and the ANBU at the main table remained oblivious to his presence thanks to their inebriated state.

 

Unfortunately, the waitress would probably cut him off soon, if her wide eyes after he started on his sixth bottle though were any indication.

 

Hiroshi couldn’t really blame her. Anyone else would likely be passed out with alcohol poisoning by this point. Hiroshi himself, at one distant point in his life, would have been an energetic off the walls drunk after a bottle. It was amazing what years of desensitization and trauma could do.

 

The central table cheered again as the lucky three recruits simultaneously knocked back shots of what was likely “Liquid Raiton”, which was always a favourite. The lone male recruit giggled deliriously after finishing, while his female comrades on either side of him raised their shot glasses in victory.

 

They were so _young_.

 

Hiroshi looked back down to his table, empty but for himself and his six, soon to hopefully be seven, ‘friends’.

 

It felt a lifetime ago when he himself had faced such an initiation with his own best friend, Nara Yuto. They had been young, hopeful chunin that thought the promotion to ANBU a blessing, and they had linked arms and knocked back shots with hardly any encouragement. Joking, in that snide way of underlings, about superiors who had only become jonin by virtue of hitting thirty, they themselves so cock sure of their place in the world and ready to hit the ground running. They had been drunk on life, so connected and in sink that they shared the same mask name, ready to tackle any challenge- look for any challenge.

 

Two wars and twenty-five years later, Hiroshi knocked back a shot of sake alone and old, jonin by virtue of living past thirty.

 

Yuto hadn’t gotten to test that particular theory.

 

Despite this, Hiroshi didn’t particularly hold a grudge- _he_ was the grudge, a smudge in history that probably shouldn’t be here now, when so many others had died along the way. Watching these hopeful shinobi now, Hiroshi couldn’t call up the passion and furfure that seemed to infect the rest of his clan to action. He didn’t have it in him to hate the youth who moved forward while the Uchiha hung back- but nor did he feel the need to stand in the way of the coup he knew was coming.

 

Hiroshi didn’t care much about anything, anymore.

 

Hiroshi took a long, dragging gulp of his drink, and slammed the empty bottle to the table. He looked back again at the table of ANBU, and a weary smile lifted the corners of his lips as one of the kunoichi began a particularly pitchy rendition of Stone country’s national anthem, complete with substituted verses that alluded to rocks in places they likely shouldn’t be on the Tsuchikage’s person.

 

The little bits of rebellion were always the most satisfying. It was why Hiroshi himself was here, when he was expected to be tucked away, plotting village wide annihilation like the rest of the clan elders- why he hadn’t told that young flaming ball of temper Fugaku where he would be.

 

An old drunk like him deserved that much anonymity while he drank away his pains.

 

**XXX**

 

Uchiha Motoko knew she shouldn’t be here.

 

_“_ Momo, a little the- _ahhh._ ”

 

She _really_ shouldn’t be here.

 

Motoko increased the pressure of her hands on parted thighs, while the other woman sprawled across the old double mattress arched her back, her warm hands tangling in Motoko’s hair with just enough pressure to make her dizzy, and almost forget her shame. “Oh _Momo,_ please, _please!-”_

 

Motoko tried to ignore the overwhelming thrill that those words brought to her, but it was a losing battle. As always, the smallest hint of encouragement, the faintest sign that Motoko could bring even a hint of what she felt what seemed everyday upon the woman whose bed she lay, filled her with an overflowing passion, _happiness_ , that pushed her on.

 

Later, she traced along her bedmates side, dipping up and down the curve of her ribs and curled around her from the back. But not too close- there were lines Motoko couldn’t cross, or she wouldn’t have even this much.

 

The soft brown hair that grazed Motoko’s face shifted as her companion twisted slightly to face her, large eyes set in a heart shape face shifting into something apologetic.

 

“I’m sorry for calling- I know there’s set times for when we can do this, because of your clan, but-”

 

“It’s fine,” Motoko brusquely interrupted. “I’ve been feeling a little stressed lately too. This was a good time.”

 

The woman bit her lip between her slightly uneven teeth, the fangs highlighted because they were pushed in front of their fellows. Motoko carefully ignored the drop in her stomach that goddamn _teeth_ could do to her. “Okay.”

 

And that was that. Motoko continued to trace the bared, flawless skin that she was allowed to touch. It was enough- but Motoko wanted more. She wanted to loop her hands in long brown hair that tangled at the ends, and be the one to brush it smooth and shining. She wanted to pull tight against the body sprawled beside her, not to initiate what this relationship really was, but just to feel warm skin dotted with hardly any scars against her own.

 

She wanted to come over without a furtive message passed off by a dove to hide from others eyes- instead spontaneously stopping by, with takeout from the Tea shop they both loved. She wanted to go to a cheesy movie together, and make fun of the actors while sneaking shots of popcorn at each other. She wanted to hear from those lips herself the woes that befell the Sandaime’s office, instead of hoarding overheard bits of conversation to learn about the daily struggles of the jammed coffee pot, the insane jonin requests.

 

Most of all, Motoko wanted to say three little words.

 

“When are you heading back?” came the sudden whisper.

 

Motoko carefully kept herself from tensing, and let out a languid reply that barely hinted at the frantic heart beat she was for once glad was not pressed against the back in front of her. “If it’s alright with you, in the morning- I think my uncle is going to be up late working on his book again, and he’d hear me coming in.”

 

Complete bullshit. Her uncle was MIA, and likely drinking again. It wasn’t like he would have cared about her sneaking in late anyways. He didn’t care about anyone.

 

“Oh that’s- yes. That’s alright then.”

 

A silence fell between them. Motoko waited, and waited, and finally, her companions breathing evened out. Carefully, she leaned in closer to line up against the body that fit hers perfectly.

 

She wished she could open her mouth and say the things she really meant. How back in the academy, it was this woman’s confrontation using the most powerful and subtle of insults against their teacher for a year’s worth of taunts that made Motoko know even back then that she was a goner. She wished she could put in words the way she could dredge through police work with a skip in her step the rest of the day if she dropped by the Hokage tower first and caught a glimpse of a smile in her direction. Or how even though the hands she longed to hold weren’t meant for kunai in the end, they still belonged to the most amazing and subtly cunning woman she had ever met.

 

But Motoko was shit with words.

 

She would have to be content with this- an arrangement that came about from a godsend of a drunken night that led to sober encounters, and which would inevitably end once someone with half a brain realized that the undersecretary for the Sandaime was beautiful and wonderful and smart and funny and-

 

Everything. She was everything.

 

And though she may not know it, Motoko’s heart was held within her grasp to do with as she pleased.

 

Motoko knew it wouldn’t last. There were rumors in the clan, ones she hardly dared to listen to, but even if it wasn’t the Uchiha who put a stop to her dalliances with an outsider, it would be the ‘outsider’ herself once she realized that Motoko was just a dog unworthy of her attentions.

 

Until that time came though, she would gladly hold on to as much as she could. If that meant not telling Fugaku ‘stick-in-the-ass’ Uchiha where she was tonight, then so be it.

 

She wanted to be here.

 

**XXX**

 

Uchiha Anzu was on a mission of utmost importance.

 

She carefully packed provisions. From underneath her bed, she jerked free her holster of kunai. She used one of said blades to pry open along the seams of her bed frame, unearthing an assortment of colour coded palm sized packs which she carefully set into the proper places of the pockets lining her coat. A few more items found their way to her duffel bag- a length of rope, a spool of wire, and a pack of gum- necessary in the weeks that she had spent trying to curb her previous addiction to chewing on senbon that came from mimicking a random chuunin.

 

Anzu gave a decisive nod as she surveyed her room. There was nothing else that striked her as necessary for this particularly important mission. She allowed herself to smirk at last, eyes glazing with fantasies of her imminent revenge.

 

She’d stop by the park first and pick up the other supplies she had left by ‘her’ tree, and then she’d be off to the traitor’s house, ready to bring upon that sniveling piece of shit the justice and hellfire that he deserved-

 

“An-nee, why’ya up s’late?”

 

Anzu froze. Slowly, she pivoted on her heel, and beheld what could be the source of her revenge’s demise before it had even begun.

 

Droopy, dark eyes gazed up at her from the tilted head of a sleepy four year old. The stuffed cat in his arms slumped over his arm from where he had grabbed it around the middle, a yawn away from falling to the ground.

 

_Shit._ He was supposed to be sleeping!

 

“Go back to sleep, Dai-” Anzu shifted her pack behind her back as subtly as she could. “Its wayyyy past your bedtime.”

 

It was too late; his gaze caught on the strap across her shoulder, and in an instant he was awake and a ball of barely repressed explosive excitement. “Oh! You’ve got a bag you’re going _adventuring_ can I come can I come CAN I CO-”

 

Anzu lunged forwards and smacked her hand across his mouth. He tried to bite at her fingers like the little monster he was, but all he got was a mouthful of leather from Anzu’s gloves.

 

“ _Shhh!_ ”

 

For once, Dai froze on command. Anzu perked to attention, waiting for any indication that her grandparents had heard them. She was in luck- their snoring continued to echo distantly from down the hall.

 

Dai started to fidget in Anzu’s grasp, and after giving him a pointed look which caused him to furiously nod, she finally removed her hand. He beamed up at her, his smile more gap than teeth. “ _Can I?_ ” he ‘whispered’.

 

Anzu was tempted to smack her hand against her face, but she resisted temptation. Carefully, she dropped to her knee before her younger brother. She felt a little bad, seeing his eyes sparkle like that, but this was ‘Important Business’. No younger brothers allowed for revenge plots.

 

“You’re too little, Dai- this is big sister stuff, no brats allowed.”

 

Dai pouted. “But!-”

 

“No buts, no nuts, no coconuts- this is Top Secret. Gotta be double digits for this.” At Dai’s suddenly teary eyes- he had always been able to cry at the drop of a hat- she quickly raised a hand. “Not that you won’t be included on the mission- obviously. You just have… a different, much more important role.”

 

“…Really?”

 

“Look me in the eye and see through any lies, or nail me to a tree and make sure that I can’t see. I promise.” She looked from side to side, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I need you to make sure no one comes into the room and sees me gone. Its ‘integral’- that means super _duper_ important- to the mission. Can I trust you?”

 

A small hand reached forwards and latched onto Anzu’s own. Dai smiled much more tentatively at her. “’Course- I’m ‘inneral’ an’ can do it!” He squinted his eyes. “You’ll tell me later how you get back at that guy for dropping you like mama’s potatoes for a- a- ‘Hyuuka’ later, right?”

 

Anzu’s eye twitched. “Of course! I always tell you about my ‘missions’ after, don’t I?”

 

Dai smiled, and swooped in for a quick hug. Anzu normally would grumble at the contact, but she figured she could let it slide, knowing he was already helping her and he probably just missed his hourly dose of cuddling from their mom and dad while they were attending one of their late night meetings. Finally, he let go, and with a furtive hand wave from Anzu, scurried back to his room. He left his door open a fair bit, likely so that he could watch and ‘guard’ Anzu’s door. From where she could see him snuggled up in his bed, he raised his stuffed cat and made it gave a little wave.

 

He really was a cutie.

 

Anzu fondly rolled her eyes, and distraction handled, turned to face her window. It easily popped open, and with a repellers knot she was out the window. Luckily she lived on the edge of the compound, so as long as she wasn’t an idiot, she wouldn’t run into anyone.

 

All the Uchiha had been weird and claustrophobic of the rest of Konoha lately, but that wouldn’t stop her from getting her glorious revenge on that backstabber Muraka Kurama- even if part of the reason he had given for ‘friends off’ had been the weirdness of her family not letting them hangout outside of the academy. That was his problem- not hers!

 

Though, he did have a bit of a point… Which was why no one could find out she was sneaking out to the park to grab an assortment of rotten fruit, which, after she snuck into ‘Rama’s room, would be used for the prank of Legends.

 

He deserved it!

 

Anzu grinned, and raced off into the night.

 

**XXX**

 

Ten minutes later, the massacre began.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....WOW. Thank you all for the amazing response to this story! Rest assured, the comments were AWESOME (sorry to everybody 'bout Dai- Anzu can't be a proper Uchiha without some good-ol'-fashioned trauma!... Oh god...) and I will respond when I can. Feedback will always be appreciated, and if you see any mistakes, please let me know :) I can't promise when the next update will be out, but I will try and keep them coming (along with updating my other stories).  
>  Now- onwards!
> 
> Warnings in this chapter for the aftermath of the massacre, callous regard for murder and trauma, along with some massacre flashbacks. Gotta get through the grit before I can start cracking down on them Uchiha family shenanigans.

“…This is a mess.”

 

“If by mess you mean the biggest clusterfuck since the Kyuubi attack, _then yes_ \- it’s certainly a mess.” The ANBU squad leader shook his head, and ran a hand through his mop of silver hair. He swallowed. “Headcounts?...”

 

His squad mate shook his head, his raven mask shifting slightly due to an improper, rushed clasp. “Only the one- while the _other_ list only grows. Squad Beta checked the police station. It’s the same there.” Raven shuddered. “Kami, how could _anything_ like this happen? Have you heard?...”

 

“Nothing. Just awful rumours.”

 

“Rumours?”

 

The ANBU captain turned away. He looked upon the street that they stood, and idly stared at a pool of blood that leaked slowly beyond the confines of its taped off zone that stretched for nearly three meters. The body within was mangled, sprawled across the ground- whichever Uchiha it was had tried to run.

 

He sighed. “The worst kind of rumours that instantly jump to a missing ANBU of incredible skill- _dangerous_ skill- and assume the worst.”

 

His companion froze. “Weasel… he wouldn’t do this. He’s a softy, you couldn’t possibly believe!-”

 

“What should I believe?” The captain’s shoulders imperceptibly began to shake. “What can I possibly think, after finding his house like that? His brother, the _only one_ we’ve found _alive_?” A mockery of a laugh passed his lips. “Alive- what a joke. He’s in a coma, likely from some sort of genjutsu trauma, and even if he wakes up, he’ll probably wish he was dead.”

 

“Sir…”

 

“Am I wrong? To lose everyone… Is a burden I would only wish on my worst enemy. Never on an eight year old. But even worse- that it might have been a loved one that destroyed his entire world, maybe even his entire _mind,_ and left him like a piece of trash by his parents’ dead bodies? That’s the stuff of ANBU nightmares.” The captain blankly stared at the ground. He flinched as his comrade attempted to lay a hand on his shoulder, and his fellow ANBU awkwardly allowed their arm to drop away from its folly of comfort.

 

Both ANBU remained out on the street. Around them, other units and members scurried around, identifying and sorting the bodies left behind in crumpled heaps on the streets and in the homes of what once was the proud compound of the Uchiha. They themselves had been doing the same for the past hour, and should have continued as such.

 

Neither moved an inch.

 

The captain stared down at the cobbles of the street, and was just beginning to haul himself from his internal despair when another ANBU- Owl- suddenly deposited themself in front of him. Owl stumbled as they landed, and paused to lift a hand to rub at their temple as a groan escaped past their mask. They finally rose, and with surprising exuberance, faced their commander head on.

 

“Kakashi, you won’t believe-” the commander, revealed to be Kakashi, threw up his hand in front of his overly excited subordinate. Owl squeaked, and clasped their hands over top of their masked mouth, for all the good it did.  “Sorry, sir… I’m just too excited!”

 

Kakashi waved his hand, and his head tilted to the side. “What are you so excited about, while were surrounded by over a _hundred dead people_ I might add, that you’re breaking protocol?”

 

Owl vibrated in place. “They found another Uchiha! A not-dead one, that is!”

 

Kakashi froze. Beside him, Raven, who had been taking their conversation as a moment to sip from his canister of water in a pursuit to cure his hangover, choked, spraying water and spit on the inside of his mask that was tilted up.

 

Raven wiped off the corner of his mouth, and allowed his mask to drop back into place. He spun to face Kakashi. “Headcount: two!” he exclaimed, and flourished a mocking peace sign in Kakashi’s face.

 

Kakashi was surrounded by idiots.

 

Kakashi waved his hand, and Owl stopped snickering at Raven and snapped back to attention. “It’s a kid,” Owl explained, and waved their hands in the vague direction of a sector towards the edge of the compound. “She tried to sneak in this morning. Squad Omega has her over in T and I holding, cause the police station is… well, _you know._ A crime scene.”

 

“The police station is a _what?_ ” a gruff voice suddenly interrupted. Owl let out a half strangled scream at the older man’s sudden appearance, and Kakashi internally bemoaned her recent promotion. In her defence, her (and Raven) were still recovering from The Broken Kunai, and even Kakashi hadn’t noticed the man until he spoke.

 

Kakashi instinctively reached for the blade strapped to his back, but eye contact with the older man, and his now apparent companion too, stopped Kakashi in his tracks.

 

Three tomoe spun within each of the older man’s eyes, and his wrinkled mouth twisted into a deep set frown as he watched the ANBU with bland appraisal. The young woman behind the man flickered her eyes from side to side, face blank as she kept a surprising amount of composure. At least until her eyes locked on the encroaching pool of blood leaking past its taped sector from what must be her mangled brethren. Her mouth parted slightly, while her companion slowly released the grip he had on her arm to bring a hand up to rub at his temple.

 

“Well Momo,” he said, “at least your bootycall escapade is the least of our problems now.”

 

Raven paused. Then he leaned over and hissed in Kakashi’s ear, “Headcount: Four!”

 

Absolute idiots.

 

**XXX**

 

The young girl bit at her lip, and twisted the strap of the duffel bag in her lap between her hands. Her black braid of hair was beginning to frizz apart, but other than that and a few steaks of what appeared to be green paint dotting her arms and chest, she seemed perfectly fine.

 

She darted her gaze up and down between Ibiki and the bolted down table, her black eyes skittering away at the sight of the head interrogator’s numerous scars. Her fidgeting finally stopped, but her white knuckled grip on the strap of her bag was hardly better.

 

Ibiki simply continued to stare her down.

 

They had been sitting like this for nearly ten minutes. When they had brought in Owl’s ‘Uchiha Number Two Survivor’, Kakashi had been initially optimistic. Then he, and his squad, realized the idiocy of believing this ‘girl’ was truly an Uchiha. He really wouldn’t put it past some rival village sleeper agent to take advantage of the chaos to remove one of the Uchiha bodies and attempt to truly ingratiate themselves in the chaos. After all- the Uchiha were renowned for being reclusive and practically chained to their compound. Who’d be able to spot an imposter with all the other Uchiha dead?

 

ANBU- _that’s fucking who_.

 

And this ‘Anzu’ was doing a pretty shitty job of selling it. How did she think she would be able to play this? Whoever the killer was (please don’t be Itachi _pleasedon’tbeItachi_ ), they had managed to cut down one hundred and thirty two mostly combative Uchiha. It seemed unlikely that an academy student would be the one to slip through the cracks, especially considering the Uchiha had apparently been under mandate to remain in compound. Anzu, not even a genin, wouldn’t have rebelled against her clan head- no average Uchiha had, after all.

 

Kakashi could understand why Uchiha Hiroshi, a grown and retired man, could be out and about. He had escaped the massacre by virtue of alcoholism, and probably his frankly uncanny ability to mask his chakra signature. Plus- sharingan. He definitely wasn’t an imposter.

 

Miss Bootycall Motoko Uchiha had a pass as well. She had a damn solid alibi, from the Sandaime’s feisty undersecretary no less, and upon inspection, a similar (though not quite as strong) ability to mask her chakra signature like her uncle. With a resting bitch face like hers, she also seemed the type to rebel against the clan status quo, and she even had Hiroshi to vouch for her identity.

 

But a random academy student, racing about in the night, conveniently missing death? As if.

 

To further prove Kakashi’s point that this was an inept invader, it begged the question on how Ita- the killer. _The killer, who was not confirmed to be Itachi-_ would have missed Anzu in his mass killing. Hiroshi and Motoko had a pass again- they lived in a house that looked like it had been abandoned and overrun by doves- but Anzu had lived in a house with numerous family members (who certainly hadn’t escaped) that had clear signs she lived there. Pictures of her and her brother resided on many of the walls in the house.

 

The infiltrator should have realized that this farce would be seen through in minutes.

 

Hence the current stare down between Ibiki and the enemy shinobi pretending to be an eleven year old. The Sandaime had forbidden torture or Yamanaka intervention until the final clean up at the Uchiha compound was complete, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t use good old fashioned intimidation to provoke a response. She would crack sooner or later- and Ibiki would see through any lies she had cooked up.

 

_Almost there,_ Kakashi thought. _Just a little bit_ -

 

“I want my call,” ‘Anzu’ finally said.

 

_Gotcha_.

 

Ibiki leaned forwards. “Your call? You really think you deserve the chance to contact outside help after what you’ve done?” He sneered. “You must think we’re idiots- you’re a fool for not realizing that you’d be caught immediately.”

 

The ‘Uchiha’ darted her gaze to the side. “I have no clue what you’re talking about- or whatever you think I’m guilty of. All _I_ know, is that _you_ know, that _I_ know my rights. I want my call.” She turned back to Ibiki, and despite her pale face, wrinkled up her nose. “Unless you just brought me in here cause you’re desperate for advice. My nice skin’s natural- there’s nothing I can tell you on how get yours to look this good.”

 

Kakashi’s eyes widened. A choked laugh sounded behind him.

 

Ibiki kept composure.  He leaned forwards and _smiled_. The girl froze in response to the, quite frankly, pants-shitting-terror inducing sight. “Nice bravado,” Ibiki murmured, “but it doesn’t negate exactly why you’re here, ‘Uchiha Anzu’. I’ll ask again- why did you think you could get away with it? You had to have known you would be caught.” Ibiki casually slid a knife from its brace along his wrist. It was curved, and only sharpened on the hook at its end. Impractical- but proof to any shinobi that it wasn’t meant for _killing_. Ibiki flicked it idly against the tips of his fingers, letting it glint under the harsh lighting of the interrogation room. “We are willing, or course, to _cut_ a deal,” he said, and split open the tip of his thumb for emphasis. “But if you don’t come clean, things could get… _messy,”_ he whispered, and slowly brought up his thumb to lick at the beading drop of blood.

 

Kakashi smirked. Hook, line and-

 

“HMPH!”

 

Kakashi paused; behind him, the motion of his fellow ANBU and T and I personnel ceased as well. On the other side of the glass, while sitting across from Morino Ibiki himself- who had a terror warning in all other nations as being _The Shinigami’s Scalpel,_ the nightmare of torture who had never failed to make the most hardened of shinobi crack into husks of their former selves- ‘Anzu’ attempted to stifle her giggles. She didn’t succeed.

 

“HAHA- Oh _Kami_ ‘Rama- pfff!-  I didn’t believe you when you said you had an uncle in T and I, and a couple cousins in special Ops, but I guess you _weren’t_ bullshitting me for once.” She turned to the glass, and a wicked grin split her face as she proudly tilted her chin forwards. “I don’t know how you mobilized so quickly, but I guess the jig is up. It was indeed _me_ who ransacked your room, cut the heads off all your action figures, and made your precious, perfect garden look like a tomato and paint massacre. I get what you’re trying to do here, but its dumb and you know it- I’m not a chicken shit piece of trash like you who _abandons their friends_ \- I don’t scare easy! Try hazing your new bestie Hyuuga instead. I think you’ll find that _he’s_ the real wuss.”

 

‘Uchiha Anzu’ rose from her chair, and gave a dramatic bow, one arm tucking against her chest while the other extended to the side. She lifted her head to reveal her shit eating grin- and eyes that had shifted into unmistakeable red pinwheels spotted with a single tomoe each.

 

“I’d like my call, if you would,” she said. She turned her head and smirked at Ibiki. “It’s about time that I tell Dai that justice has been served- _Uchiha_ style.” 

 

The crowd behind the one way glass watched the girl blankly. She continued to bask in her ‘success’, while behind her Ibiki had allowed his head to drop down into his hands.

 

“She’s… not a fake?” someone behind Kakashi whispered.

 

There was no response to the random ANBU’s question. The fucking _sharingan_ was answer enough.

 

Uchiha Anzu’s nose scrunched up, bunching together the few freckles that spotted her nose and cheeks. She allowed her eyes to fade back to their normal colour of nearly black, and crossed her arms. “Yo! So, are you guys gonna let me out, or what? My parents, my grandparents, and most importantly, my brother, are prob’ly wondering where I am.”

 

…No. They weren’t.

 

Kakashi didn’t register what happened next. He was too busy thudding his head against the one way glass as what was, evidently, an actual honest to god Uchiha was hauled out. One who was about to be told the worst news of her life, and from people who she would learn had been on the cusp of torturing her.

 

In their defence… Who would have ever guessed Ita- _the killer-_ could screw up not once, not twice, but _three times_?

 

**XXX**

 

Hiruzen was tempted to hide beneath his desk, if only to escape the three black eyed gazes staring him down. Things like this… Were never easy. But to this scale? Unheard of.

 

The oldest of the three- Uchiha Hiroshi, a fourty five year old ex Black Ops- gave little indication of what he felt beyond slightly narrowed eyes. Of the three Uchiha , he was the one who appeared the most relaxed. Which made sense. Hiroshi was one of few shinobi to reach past forty with his limbs and mind still intact, and despite the silver streaks scarring his temples and the faintest beginnings of a gut, he was still fit and able.

 

He was likely the only one as well that would be able to put together the pieces. It pained Hiruzen to think that despite having survived two wars, and the terror of the previous night thanks to a well timed bar visit, that he would have to be ‘silenced’ to prevent anarchy in the village. He would have to have a private conversation with the man afterwards, to discern what action would be required.

 

The other two Uchiha were not nearly as composed. The older- Uchiha Motoko, twenty three, Hiroshi’s niece, and a crime scene investigator for the police force- managed to keep her face terrifyingly blank, but the fidgeting of her hands betrayed her. She wasn’t old enough or of high enough rank within her clan to have known entirely what was going on amidst the Uchiha, but she _was_ a detective.

 

Another who might have to be silenced.

 

The final- Uchiha Anzu, an eleven year old academy student a mere three months from graduating- was openly scowling, but the furrow of her brow hinted that her composure was more an act at being standoffish. Hiruzen had heard about her cocky attitude during her interrogation. Whatever confidence that had fueled her before had slowly leaked away as the hours stretched without her questions being answered. She was smart- she had probably picked up on the atmosphere, and the strangeness of the situation. That she had not been allowed to see her parents, and was here now instead in the Hokage’s office… Well. Her outwards appearance was definitely an act.

 

Hiruzen felt a stab in his chest to think how worried she must be now, and how his future words would likely crush her.But if anyone could be saved, it was her. Hiruzen, to the best of his ability, would try to ensure that the girl who wouldn’t have known hide nor hair of the massacre would be protected.

 

Enough children had already died.

 

Hiruzen crossed his hand beneath his chin. He heaved in a breath, and exhaled, slowly. He lifted his gaze to meet the knowing eyes of Hiroshi. It was safer than looking towards the women who didn’t know what was coming.

 

“I regret to inform the three of you of a terrible tragedy…”

 

**XXX**

 

_“…last night. By chance, the three of you were not within your compounds walls…”_

 

Anzu stared down at the toes exposed by her sandals. The right side of her left foot was smeared with red and whitish mush from her prank earlier that day, a vegetable that’s demise had been her foot. The nails of her toes were scuffed with dirt, some of which had crept into the beds of said nails. Her gaze sharpened on a small ant, trekking its way across the edge of her right foot.

 

“… _still being confirmed. But I want you to know that ANBU will find out for sure whether he was responsible…”_

 

His beady eyes, brought into sharp focus, flickered in the light. His body wasn’t just red- it was brown, and shining, with black antennae that twitched back and forth. She settled her foot against the ground, and escape in sight, the ant trekked from her foot to the floor.

 

_“…Konoha will offer complete support. Lodgings will be provided, as your homes are examined…”_

 

Upon making contact with the linoleum, he froze. His body crumpled in on itself, and a faint twist of smoke peeled away from his tiny body. The light went out of his eyes, and he remained like that- motionless.

 

Dead.

 

“… _I offer again my condolences. This tragedy  should_ never _have happened.”_

 

Of course. The hospital had seals to keep pests out which lined the floor. Dai had gasped when she had told him about that lesson from the academy- he thought seals were magic writing, the ‘coolest stuff since fireballs’. He wanted to learn how to draw the ‘funny swirl magic’ too.

 

He _wanted_. Because Dai was… He _was…_

 

“… _a_ terrible _tragedy…”_

 

The dead insect finally finished smoldering- a mockery of what she knew was the truth.

 

Anzu forced her back not to tense. Her mind, usually racing with a thousand ideas, slowly edged towards an encroaching haze. The Sandaime’s previous words faded, her mind clearing and cluttering at the same time as it was filled with wonderful nothingness. She was distantly aware of the eyes on her- a second away from pouncing if her breath so much as hitched. The hand, slowly rubbing circles in her back. She let it all go. All that she focused on was breathing.

 

In.

 

Out.

 

In.

 

Out.

 

In-

 

“It’s no use acting, kid.”

 

…Out.

 

“You can’t stay in your head forever.”

 

In. Out.

 

“Because this _happened_. It shouldn’t have, but it has. And pretending it didn’t isn’t going to change the facts.”

 

In- Out- In-

 

“And the facts are we’re the only ones left. Are you really going to pretend that we don’t exist? That _you’re_ the only one left?”

 

Out In Out

 

“Me. Momo. Coma kid. And you. So what are you going to do? Keep closing yourself off? You need to feel this- I can’t, because I’m basically a walking body by this point- but _you_ can’t lose your passion.”

 

InOutInOut

 

“Because if you lose your passion, you’re dead too. Just like the others. Your mom. Your dad. Your broth-”

 

“SHUT UP! SHUT _UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP S-SHUT, SH-SHUT, U-UP, shut up shutupshutup-”_

 

Hiroshi carefully pulled Anzu’s hands away from her ears. He tilted her head with gentle hands, and despite her continued murmurs, gently brushed his thumbs over either of her cheeks to clean them of the tears still streaking from her red, swirling eyes. His own sharingan activated. Their gazes locked.

 

Slowly, Anzu’s mouth closed. It scrunched up slowly- her lower lip trembling- a step by step breaking of a person. Finally, she cracked. Sobs escaped her lips in stuttering hiccups, and Hiroshi collected her into his arms. Once her head was rested against his slowly dampening shoulder, he lifted his still spinning eyes to meet Motoko’s dark ones across the hallway.

 

Motoko’s bun had shaken loose during their mad scramble to the hospital, where they currently waited. Her face remained stony, though twin streaks on her cheeks revealed that she was not immune to what had happened despite her, as usual, iron clad composure. Slowly, she rose from the chair opposite Hiroshi. She crossed the distance between their chairs, and eased herself down on Hiroshi’s open side.

 

His meeting with her this morning seemed so distant now- their walks of shame colliding, his from the alley of The Broken Kunai, and her’s from the house of the secretary she was in love with.

 

Hiroshi wasn’t an idiot. Motoko had been _giggling_ more recently, which was in and of itself astronomical- Motoko hardly even smiled.

 

Naturally, though, he had had to scold her, if only for appearances sake. He hadn’t expected their walk back to lead to a fenced off compound. And later, to a reveal that a distant part of him knew was inevitable. The only thing he hadn’t expected was what had happened to the children.

 

He didn’t think he could ever forgive Konoha for that.

 

Hiroshi shifted, twisting slightly away from Anzu so that he could spread open his other arm. Motoko tucked herself into the new space, and Hiroshi settled his head to lean against the wall, bumping with the two other black heads resting on either of his shoulders.

 

As Motoko too began to shudder, Hiroshi remained carefully calm. He continued to rub both of the girls’ backs, while his gaze remained focused on the list behind the waiting rooms nurse’s desk- and one name in particular that resided on it.

 

Uchiha Sasuke.

 

Hiroshi closed his eyes. A little piece of him hoped the kid didn’t wake up. That he could stay in that hospital bed forever, away from the waking world that his brother had ruined. Most of Hiroshi, though, was just tired. Distantly, angry. But that feeling was damped. He had already used his emotional quota for the day, on the girls- and in the Hokage’s office earlier.

 

Hiruzen’s eyes had been so sad, when he asked what Hiroshi planned to do. Hiroshi had had no doubt that no less than seven ANBU had lied in wait, some purposefully there to rip through any lies that he could concoct, and others there to subdue the threat that Hiroshi might present. After Anzu and Motoko had been led, stunned, from the room, Hiroshi had given his response to Hiruzen’s question.

 

The answer was easy- and it was even the truth.

 

“I’m going to look after the kids. I think we both know that I’m the only one in the village who can be trusted to.”

 

The Hokage hadn’t said anything in response. He had just slowly inclined his head.

 

“She doesn’t know,” Hiroshi had made himself say. “Motoko. About any of it. She won’t find out.” Hiroshi had lifted his eyes, and for a single moment, the barest gleam of his once roaring fire returned. “And for what we are owed- I think either side would do well to leave this case alone. I’d like to think enough wrongs have already been committed.”

 

HIruzen had watched Hiroshi with careful eyes, before sighing. “For what it’s worth, Hiroshi- I didn’t want this either.” Hiroshi wasn’t sure whether or not that was the truth or empty platitudes. It didn’t change the fact that one hundred and thirty-two people were dead. Hiruzen had closed his eyes. “Then it is done. I’ll leave you then- all three of you- to find the final Uchiha. My ANBU will lead you to his room.”

 

Hiroshi hadn’t nodded, or given the Hokage any indication of what he felt. He simply stood, and walked out of the office of a murderer.

 

An ANBU in a Raven mask had alighted at his side. He’d indicated his head in the direction of the girls; Motoko had her arms wrapped around her middle, while Anzu blankly stared at the floor. Raven had gently placed his hand on Hiroshi’s shoulder, and he had been mildly surprised to realize that Raven had been one of the ANBU leading the initiation for the new recruits the night before. It seemed so long ago.

 

Hiroshi had looked at Raven, and nodded.

 

Together, they had lead the girls out of the office. There was an awkward moment, where Motoko paused as her name was called by a secretary manning one of the desks at the entrance of the tower. But Motoko, after stopping, hadn’t even look back at the woman who called her Momo. She just kept walking past, and out the door.

 

Hiroshi had spared the young woman a glance. Her hands had been clenched in front of her, and her face devoid of colour. Her gaze had hesitantly met Hiroshi’s, but he hadn’t been willing in the least to be the one to tell her the news.

 

Anzu’s hand had dug into his sleeve in that moment. After, all thoughts of the secretary were abandoned for the child that needed the meager amount of support he was capable of giving.

 

Three shunshin’s later, they were at the hospital, and a short walk later, they were halted in the waiting room usually frequented by families checking in on long term patients. Raven had whispered furiously with the nurse, but she had stonily blocked their passage.

 

It would have been too much work to try to strong-arm their way to meet a boy who wouldn’t be awake anyways. Hiroshi had planted himself on one of the chairs immediately outside the door, and Raven had lead Anzu to the seat beside Hiroshi. Motoko had sat across from him, only two meters away, though the distance felt infinite. He had never known how to speak or interact with Momo- not when she was eighteen and in need of a home, and certainly not in the wake of the most terrible thing to ever happen to her.

 

And here they all were now. Hiroshi, attempting to be human again for the sake of the girls whose world had been destroyed by the evil Rooted in the village, while waiting for a boy Hiroshi hoped would die.

 

**XXX**

 

Sasuke woke screaming.

 

White coats desperately surrounded him, hovering and shoving towards him like vultures feasting on the rotten flesh of the dead. He furiously kicked out, lashing with arms restrained by cords and needles digging into his skin.

 

“Uchiha-san, please, we’re trying to help you-” A hand clawed at Sasuke’s arm. It pinned it to the table, and just as a needle attempted to bite into the flesh of his elbow, he wrenched it away. Sasuke gasped, salt staining his cheeks, as indistinct yells escaped his lips. Another hand reached to restrain his thrashing head, and he snapped with iron jaws at the appendage.

 

“ _Little monster-_ Raiko!” The hand snapped forwards again and slammed Sasuke’s head back against the table. “Stop trying to be gentle and restrain his goddamn legs! The last thing we needs is another of your foolish-!”

 

_“-little brother.”_

 

Time froze. Sasuke’s vision shifted. The white coats, grasping hands and sterile room were replaced by a far more horrifying sight.

 

A red circle that held a black pinwheel turned in a single, dazing revolution.

 

.

.

.

 

A katana sliced across the neck of an old woman tucked within her covers- she choked on the blood welling in her throat, gasping as her eyes sputtered to turn red, dotting with two tomoes in each

 

(“Oh dear,” she said, and giggled in a way that belied her age. “You have to drink carefully, and take your time.” She gently rubbed Sasuke’s back, and shared a mischievous grin with his mother as he choked on the juice she had given him to drink. She looked at him with laughing, lively eyes-)

 

that failed to spin. Instead, they slowly faded into empty black pools like the koi ponds at night, though there wasn’t even a ripple to hint at life beneath their surface.

 

A young man. Dragging himself across the ground. His head tilted back towards the bloody trail that his severed legs had left, the stumps weighing him down as terror seized his face into a gasping scream

 

(“Hey little man!”  Sasuke hid behind his father’s leg. The young man tightened his grip on the waist of the dark haired woman beside him who rolled her eyes- her lips however quirked into a smile- as he puffed up his chest. The young man flashed a smile in Sasuke’s direction, his eyes darting upwards to Sasuke’s father. “Would you believe Na-chan finally agreed to marry me?”

 

Said woman laughed, and lifted her arm to cuff the man behind the head. “Agreed? I’m the one who proposed!” Sasuke’s hid a giggle, and even his father gave a muffled snort. The young man blushed, but continued to smile, and gave a laugh himself-)

 

That abruptly ended as a shuriken embedded in his head.

 

A woman, sobbing as she held her body over top of a cradle, heedless of the blood leaking from her side to drip upon the wailing baby-

 

Two men, grabbing each other’s hands and locking gazes despite the red staining the sheets of their bed-

 

A little boy, staring with wide eyes through an open door at the figure slowly entering, clutching at the stuffed cat within his arms and trying to muffle sobs as he cried for ‘An-nee’-

 

“ _Hate me. Detest me. Curse me, and survive in an unsightly way.”_

 

Red swirled. Tomoe turned. Black iris shifted; starting in a hundred and more different eyes, sometimes wrenching its way into being.

 

Red slowed. Tomoe paused. Crimson eyes dulled in a hundred and more eyes into empty blackness.

 

Except for _his_

 

(Sasuke tugged on his brother’s pant leg, and when said leg continued to move, he clung, legs and arms wrapping, rising and falling with the motion of his ‘captive’.

 

“Nii-san,” he whined, “You said we could train together today! I wanted to learn how to do that stuff- the flying thing- with the shuriken, and that spinny grab flip that you used to beat up Shisui, and _maybe I dunno gettoseeyoursharingan-_ ”

 

The leg stopped moving forwards. Sasuke buried his face into the fabric of the pants, lips pursed. A sudden pressure upon his forehead instinctively led him to wrench one of his arms away to slap at the hand that had poked him, but he was too slow- like always.

 

A laugh. “Maybe next time.”

 

Sasuke groaned. “No fair!” He pulled at the pant leg again as a hand carefully began to ease his other hand’s grips, his captive’s hands gentle as they worked. Sasuke’s nose wrinkled. “You promised!”

 

The hand gently cradled Sasuke’s own, ceasing its attempts to detach him. A sigh. “If I show you my sharingan, will that be enough for now? I have a mission, Sasuke.”

 

Sasuke’s head remained shoved against the leg. Eventually, it tilted in a nod. When fingers reached to detangle him, he gave little resistance, and frowned as he was set upon the ground. His gaze finally tracked upwards, passed the tired smile, the too pale face, and met-)

 

Red.

Swirling.

_Eyes._

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_“Run. Run, and cling to your pitiful life.”_

 

Mother and father’s sightless eyes stared at Sasuke, blank and demanding- asking Sasuke why they were dead while he was alive. Asking why he had been out late at the park training with other kids- _playing-_ when he should have been home, dying like a good son beside them.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

In the real world, Sasuke continued to scream. Finally, the nurses managed to restrain his flailing limbs, and dose him with the drugs that were the solution to any ninja trauma. They sighed as his whimpers finally ceased- exchanged instead for shaky breathing- and congratulated themselves on a job well done.

 

But in Sasuke’s mind, the red pinwheel turned once again. The cycle continued- because it _never_ ended. The Uchiha continued to die. And all Sasuke could do was watch the massacre of his entire family.

 

Again.

 

And again.

 

_And again._


End file.
